Finding My Way To Love

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Why I Will Marry A Black Man

A few nights ago I went on a date with a handsome young man I met on the train ( clearly I wasn't following the rules my mother taught me about not talking to strangers). He was tall, handsome and Puerto Rican. The date started with him sending for a car service  to pick me up in Queens, which is where I live. I was very impressed and kinda curious cause we met on the train, the E train at that. Never the less it was still very nice gesture and it defiantly got him panty points (lol, jk, not really). Anyway we met up at this very nice steak house in the city.  In as much as I may have been rude I just had to ask him, "what do you do for a living?" I mean he was rolling out the red carpet for me as he should but I didn't want him to go into debit  excepting me to cash in on his panty points. He didn't get that many points (lol).  Come to find out my latin lover is a finical investor and dose some type of international business. You know I had to ask if his international business had anything to do with illegal narcotics. He laughed and said no, but I was so serious.  Impress with his line of work I had yet another question, cause as a woman I just can't let things be. I asked with his line of work and his expensive taste why was he on the train. Of course he had a very humble answer, he likes to people watch,plus riding the train keeps him grounded. Now I'm not sure how much of this was true but I figured I'd buy it for a free steak dinner (lol). As the night went on we talked about what we liked to do, our hobbies, and oh YES!!! Football.  Clearly he's a Jets fan, what New Yorker isn't (lol). He had great conversation, the night was amazing. I have to be honest  as shameful as it is for me to say but I have never been a date of that magnitude...EVER.

Being a woman my age , my mind quickly rushed us to marriage with a baby in a baby carriage (lol). Riding back home I thought to myself what it would be like to marry a outside of race, having half breed babies, eating collard greens with spanish rice (lol). We could salsa and do the Cupid Shuffle at our wedding.  My daughter can have a sweet 16 party and a Quinceanera (which is a sweet 15). My son can play soccer and football and become and NFL kicker. My 2.5 children can have the best of both worlds.They will have Cinco De Mayo ( minus the margaritas,lol) and June tenth.  I mean successful black men are always creating interracial families... Hell if I can't get em why not join the other team. Then I got to thinking about my parents and how my father was with my mother and with me and my sister.

I grew up in a two parent home with a father who made it his number one priority to make sure my sister and I got to school everyday on time, with a quick prayer before leaving the house. Of course my mother asked him every day "did you pray with the girls"lol. Granted he wasn't the best at combing our hair  he still made sure we he got to school (lol). My daddy was super cool growing up even though in the winter he made us eat prunes to keep my sister and I regular, not sure why that was so important in the winter and not any other time of the year (lol).  Although my dad is a pastor of a church he always kept it gangsta when it came to his girls.  I remember arguing with the lady in college about my tuition being paid. The lady said to me"obviously ya daddy didn't do what he said he did" I called my daddy and well let's just say her attitude changed and I was quickly enrolled in school. My daddy was cool and alway looked good and smelled good. He even help my mom with perming my sister and my hair for the first time, he was in charge of rinsing and shampooing (lol). He and my mom would play this game "Honey home" everyday and when he walked in my mom would run to him. He took my mom on a date every friday and til this day he keeps her driving a clean Cadillac. Now only a black man knows the value of a clean Cadillac.

When I reflect the fond memories of my father as man and a husband to my mother I can't help but want to marry someone like him. He was far from perfect but that doesn't take away from him being the best father ever. I want to marry a man that will instill our African history and heritage in our children.  I know the media shows Black Men as the image of ignorance and disrespectful to women but I can't help but believe theirs a black man for me that will take me out on a date every friday and keep me in a clean Cadillac. I can't help but believe that there is a black man for me that's got a lil gangsta in him just in case someone one wants to show out on me and kids he can handle it without  causing a scene (lol). In as much as I loved my date with my latin lover I can't help but want what was given to me as a little black girl.

To my friend who travels outside their race to find true love do whats best for you, but I'm a stick with the brothas... There's at least one that will love me for me.

Til Next Time
Simply Lola

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Black History Month/ A Lost Language

This morning while riding the train I noticed a sign written in several different languages. It was a sign letting everyone know that there will be a new train route starting at the end of February. Just so everyone was clear on the new changes they printed the poster in chinese, indian, spanish, russian, and english. As I took my eyes off of the posted notice I realized I was sitting in between to men. One man was reading an Asian news paper and the other man was reading an Indian news paper both written in their own language. As I rode the train to work I thought about the fact that I am African American and as a descendant of  the African culture and origin their was no original language for me.  When our ancestors were brought over to America they were striped of their language.This country took our language from your family as well as mine. The language of our people is no longer in existence and all we have is the history create today.

This month is Black History Month. This month is important because its all we have left of who we are. 80% of inner city volunteers are white women. In as much as they are taking out the time to give to our dying youth they are not teaching our children the truth the facts of what it is to be Black in America. We can give every excuse in the world why we can't but the truth of the matter is WE MUST!!!. We must volunteer the information of who we are, where we come from and what makes us who we are to those who are coming behind us. No one can tell our story like we can. We've lost out language let's hold on to our history.

In honor of those who have come before us I have posted a tribute to the BLACK HISTORY... Enjoy